Getting To Know You
by Ellex
Summary: AU sequel to The Storm. Rodney gets whumped, saves the day, reveals the details of his unhappy childhood. McShep
1. Hurricane Atlantis

Title: Getting To Know You

Author: Ellex

Disclaimer: Stargate:Atlantis does not belong to me. (Sob)

Spoilers: The Storm

Reviews: I love feedback and constructive criticism. Please no flaming, it's just rude.

Summary: Rodney gets hurt, Rodney saves the day, we learn the details of his unhappy childhood.

A/N: This is an AU sequel to "The Storm". Could be McShep preslash, if you want to interpret it that way. I'm not saying one way or the other yet. I've only seen "The Storm" once, and I don't remember all the details, so any mistakes are mine. Any medical mistakes are also mine.

Chapter One: Hurricane Atlantis

Kolya moved toward Weir, grinning. Rodney stepped in front of her and held out his good hand.

"Leave her alone!" he commanded, sounding more confident than he felt.

Elizabeth was surprised and gratified by his show of bravura. Kolya, however, was not. He punched the scientist in the stomach, then smashed the butt of his gun against McKay's right temple. She tried to catch him as he collapsed, but missed. To her horror, Rodney's head hit the edge of the control console as he fell. He landed in a limp heap on the floor, half under the console, blood flowing freely from both sides of his head. She watched, suddenly feeling numb, as the thick dark blood collected in a spreading pool around him.

Elizabeth Weir couldn't think of anything else to do. She sat on the floor of the Command Center beside the unconscious Rodney McKay. She had done what she could: straightened his outflung limbs; placed her folded jacket under his head, tried to staunch the bleeding. All she had to use was her handkerchief. It hadn't been long before the scrap of cloth was soaked, but after a while the flow of blood from the awful gashes on both sides had slowed, though not stopped completely. His breathing was shallow, his pulse weak and thready, but what frightened her most was how horribly still he was. Rodney had not moved at all - even his eyes were motionless under heavy, bruised-looking lids. When she pulled up his eyelids, she was appalled to find the right eye full of blood, and the pupil of his left eye was so dilated she could hardly see the light blue ring of the iris.

Now all she could do was kneel beside him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, and hold his hand.

Elizabeth had marveled at the strength and delicacy of touch in his long, graceful fingers, so much at odds with the slight clumsiness of the rest of him. You only really saw it when he was working: the swift sure touch of a surgeon's or musician's hands, dancing across a computer keyboard, an Ancient control panel, or assembling some incredible contraption out of wires and crystals and computer chips. Now his hands were cold to the touch, limp and unmoving.

Major Sheppard tried to run as quietly as he could through the darkened halls of Atlantis. He mentally cursed himself for not having taken the time to better familiarize himself with the layout of the city's outer areas. There was an almost organic pattern to the many levels, rooms and corridors that got him all turned around if he didn't concentrate.

He had managed to fix the controls of the power station - or at least, had moved crystals around until, to his surprise, he actually got it to lift up and break the connection to the water. Now, if only McKay's plan worked - if only he could get back to the Command Center without getting caught - if only he could figure out a way to free McKay and Weir and stop Kolya - if only, if only!

He began to see signs of occupied areas of the city and slowed his steps. The only thing he could do now was try to draw out Kolya's people - or, if he was really lucky, Kolya himself - and pick them off, one by one. It wasn't much of a plan, but frankly it was the only one he could come up with. Unfortunately, now that the third power station had been taken off-line, Kolya had no real use for Elizabeth or McKay, and he wouldn't put it past that sick bastard to kill them just to get them out of the way.

John was just a corridor away from the Command Center now. He peered around a corner and was pleased to see exactly what he expected: two young Genii soldiers, on guard outside the main door to the Command Center. Now if he could just come up with a way to separate them...

Elizabeth hardly dared to hope they could get out of this. Kolya's people were agitated because it seemed Major Sheppard had managed to kill several of them. She herself was watching and waiting for some chance to do something - anything - to aid him.

She had even begun to hold out some hope for McKay. A few minutes ago his eyes had opened, though he hadn't spoken or made any indication that he was aware of his surroundings. His unfocussed gaze had merely wandered around before the heavy lids closed again. But when she squeezed his hand gently, his fingers had twitched, then closed weakly around hers. Now his hand was limp again, but she held on to it anyways.

Stupid. He was so stupid. His plan had worked well enough, and the two guards outside the door of the Command Center had been dealt with: one dead, one tied up to use as a hostage. But Sheppard hadn't anticipated the ruthlessness of the young Genii. The hostage was dead, shot by his own people, and Sheppard had had no choice but to surrender and hope to find another chance to rescue not only McKay and Weir, but himself.

Elizabeth's face fell as Sheppard was marched into the Command Center at gunpoint. He felt awful to see the hope die in her eyes, but the sight of McKay's still, bloodied form was even worse. The Canadian's face was almost unrecognizable: skin white as paper; the eye sockets sunken and dark; hair matted with blood from two lacerations, one in the middle of a purpling bruise on his right temple, the other, deep and ugly, over his left ear. Sheppard felt like his stomach had suddenly dropped out of his body. That sensation was the simple explanation for why he loved flying so much, but in this instance it was distinctly unpleasant.

The major was pushed forward to stand beside Elizabeth. Kolya grinned as he pointed his gun at them.

Then Sheppard felt a fumbling hand at his ankle, and resisted the almost overwhelming temptation to look down. The hand found the little .22 caliber pistol he wore in a hidden ankle holster. Kolya was watching their faces and never saw the gun being aimed at him from floor level.

When the shot rang out, Sheppard went into action. He knelt, grabbed the .22 from McKay's unresisting hand, and loosed off several rapid shots at the remaining Genii. He dropped three of them before aiming at Kolya, but it wasn't necessary. McKay's shot had caught him square in the throat, tearing out his windpipe, and the Genii commander was swiftly choking to death on his own blood.

The few remaining Genii commandos seemed to be in shock. Without their leader and with the majority of their fellows dead or incapacitated, they didn't seem to know how to react. Elizabeth snatched up Kolya's gun and she and Sheppard quickly disarmed them and locked them in a disused room off the Command Center.

When they returned to McKay, they found him still awake, but disoriented.

"You did it, McKay," said Sheppard, gripping the scientist's shoulder. "You saved the day."

"What?" he said, his voice slow and weak. "I don't - head hurts...tired..."

"I'm sorry, Rodney. The storm is in full force over the city right now. Just hang in there until it's over. Doctor Beckett will be back and he'll fix you up good as new." Elizabeth was trying to sound reassuring, but her voice was shaking. It didn't really matter, because Rodney's eyes had closed again.

Sheppard shook his shoulder gently. "McKay! You've got to stay awake. C'mon, open your eyes and talk to me, man."

"...wha...where...where am I?"

"In the Command Center on Atlantis." Sheppard looked over at Elizabeth and saw that she was pale and shaking. "Lizzie. Hey Lizzie! I think there's a fist aid kit in the conference room." She started away to fetch it and he yelled after her, "Wouldja get me a Big Mac while you're out?"

She shot him a startled look, then smiled and nodded.

"Sheppard..." McKay licked his lips. "...don' let 'im...hurt 'lizbeth...can't...can't stop him, oh God, I can't stop him-" Rodney suddenly clutched Sheppard's sleeve in panic and tried to raise his head, but fell back as his injuries overcame him. John found himself holding McKay's hands to keep the scientist from touching the wounds on his head. McKay was panting, almost sobbing with pain and panic. In a little while it seemed to subside, and he was calmer, though no more lucid. Sheppard had to reassure him over and over that Doctor Weir was safe and unharmed. By the time she returned, looking a little more composed if a bit white around the mouth, Rodney had begun asking where Salieri was, which worried John even more that his earlier ravings.

When Elizabeth heard him, she laughed weakly. "No, it's okay, John. He's talking about his cat."

Sheppard looked at her in amazement. "I knew you'd read everyone's files, but I had no idea they were THAT detailed."

"They're not," Elizabeth smiled as she applied disinfectant to McKay's injuries. "Rodney and I got to talking once about what we'd left behind. I told him about my dog, and he told me about his cat. He said it was the one thing that made him hesitate when he was asked to join the Atlantis team - the hardest thing to leave behind."

"He should've brought it along," John said firmly. Their voices - or maybe even just their presence - seemed to make McKay calmer. His eyes were still open, but he had stopped rambling. Elizabeth taped a gauze pad to the largest laceration on his head, then cut away his sleeve so she could bind the stab wound on his arm.

"Really? I would have taken you for a dog person, Major."

"I like dogs. I like cats, too."

Their conversation continued off and on while they watched the storm raging outside. McKay's plan seemed to be working - although rain and wind lashed at the city and multiple lighting strikes hit the towers, the interior lights never even flickered. Elizabeth checked the power readings frequently, and they remained steady.

McKay, on the other hand, did not. They didn't dare move him - for one thing, the Command Center was the safest place in the city while the storm continued in full force; for another, there was nothing more they could do for him in the infirmary that they could not do on the spot. In fact, all they could really do for Rodney was try to make him comfortable. But he constantly threatened to go into shock, once had convulsions - which Elizabeth thought scared Sheppard even more then herself - and finally lost consciousness. He was so still and unresponsive that she began to wonder if he had slipped into a coma.

Hours later, she was sitting at the control console, watching the readout that showed the passage of the storm over the city. John was sitting on the floor beside McKay, resting his forehead on his drawn-up knees, one arm wrapped around his legs, the other stretched out to grasp McKay's wrist to feel the weak flutter of his pulse.

"John," he heard Weir as if from a long way away. "John, it's over."

He slowly lifted his head to stare uncomprehendingly at her.

"The storm, John. It's over."

He looked over at the windows, where the sky was slowly brightening and the rain had stopped.

Just a few minutes later, the Puddle Jumper flew into the hangar bay for a slightly unsteady landing.

Within half an hour, Rodney was in the infirmary and Atlantis was bustling with activity as the Athosians and the SGA personnel began returning. Weir and Sheppard gratefully threw themselves into the work despite their exhaustion.

TBC…if you like it

4


	2. Not My Mother

Chapter Two: Not My Mother

Dr. Beckett's daily reports on his patient's condition had been closely attended by the rest of the team. McKay had remained unconscious for a worrying two days, after which he had been only rarely lucid for another day. The Scotsman claimed he was now slowly improving, although he spent most of the time asleep and when awake suffered from massive headaches, occasional nausea and some short-term memory loss. The stab wound in his arm, though deep, was easily repaired with a few stitches and showed no sign of infection.

Dr. Beckett had only today allowed McKay to have visitors. He warned them that his patient might fall asleep suddenly in the middle of a conversation, or might not remember something that had happened only moments before. Sheppard had purposely waited until the others saw him first. He secretly hoped that the scientist would be too tired for him to stay long: he never felt comfortable around sick people, and admitted - if only to himself - that seeing the normally frenetic Canadian so apathetic was somehow deeply disturbing.

Sheppard paused in the doorway. McKay didn't look much better now than he had when Sheppard had first seen him, battered and bloody, on the floor of the Command Center nearly a week ago. Seeing his teammate lying there on the bed with his eyes closed, both sides of his high forehead still colorful with bruises, while the rest of his face was as white as the pillows behind him, brought back the whole appalling scene in the Command Center. Sheppard found himself breathing fast, heart racing, and forced himself to calm down. Experience had taught him the skills he now used to take control of his body and emotions and put away his anxieties.

As he watched, McKay frowned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes without ever opening them. A barely perceptible shudder ran through him, bringing to Sheppard's attention the noticeably thinner frame under the blanket. Even his round face seemed pinched. A soft, desperate moan sounded deep in his throat, and he slowly rolled onto his side and into a fetal position, arms circling his head as if to keep it from coming off.

Sheppard suddenly realized the scientist had no idea that anyone was in the room with him.

"McKay," he called softly. He was rewarded with a grunt. The injured man uncurled slightly, and said hoarsely, "Go 'way."

"Bad headache?" He said it just to get a rise out of McKay - it was too obviously dumb a statement to resist - but his only answer was another grunt, this one closer to a groan.

A distant childhood memory drifted into his head, and he sat in the chair placed next to the bed, reached over...and began to gently rub McKay's back.

At the first touch, the Canadian stiffened, but didn't look up.

"What're you...?"

"When I was about seven, I fell out of a tree and conked myself on the head. I had awful headaches for a couple of days, and I remember my mother would sit beside me and rub my back. It seemed to help."

"No' my moth'," Rodney slurred. His head hurt too much to move or even speak, and the large warm hand making slow circles in the middle of his back was so soothing, he found himself slipping away from conscious thought.

"No, I'm not your mother. But you're a member of my team, and I take care of my people."

His only response was a weary sigh as Rodney drifted off into a deep sleep.

Ten minutes later, Carson Beckett came in to check on his patient and stopped dead in the doorway, then slowly smiled at the scene in front of him. McKay lay almost on his stomach, sleeping peacefully, the lines of pain on his face lighter than they had been since he first woke up. He was facing away from Major Sheppard, who sprawled bonelessly in the chair, snoring softly, his hand still stretched out to rest on McKay's back.

Carson tiptoed out and shut the door. He turned and almost jumped out of his skin to find Dr. Weir right behind him.

"Have you seen Major Sheppard? I told him not to wear Rodney out."

"Major Sheppard is unavailable for the next few hours. Doctor's orders."

The worry line instantly appeared between Elizabeth's brows. "Unavailable? Is he-"

"Dinnae worry, ma'am. He fell asleep visitin' Rodney. In fact, they're both sound asleep and I'm leaving orders not to disturb them. And I suggest you try to get some rest before I decide to sedate you." Beckett scowled ferociously at her, then ruined it with a grin. Elizabeth smiled back, feeling much of the past week's tension finally slip away.

To Beckett's surprise, Major Sheppard sought him out when he awoke and asked to be informed whenever McKay's headaches got bad. Carson, seeing Sheppard's determination overriding his embarrassment, agreed without comment. He was in favor of anything that would help Rodney, especially since the last headache had been so severe that he had been forced to sedate the injured man.

True to his word, when he found McKay almost sobbing with pain in the early hours of the morning, he called the major, who hauled himself out of bed and came to sit beside Rodney and rub his back with surprising patience. Later, after Rodney had fallen asleep, he pulled Sheppard aside.

"Ye don't have to do this, Major. I have nurses who can do that for him. I know ye have plenty to do yourself."

Sheppard smiled tiredly. "I know that, Doc. I don't mind doing it. And I'm not so sure it would work as well with someone else. I know all I'm doing is rubbing his back, but...I need to do this for him. He saved my life. It's a trust issue. A teammate thing, y'know?"

Carson did know, and didn't argue further. He had a quiet word with Dr. Weir to have Sheppard's workload lightened, and the soldier showed up every time Beckett called him, no matter what time it was or what he was doing.

TBC...


	3. Waking Up and Remembering

Title: Getting To Know You

Author: Ellex

Disclaimer: Stargate:Atlantis does not belong to me. (Sob)

Spoilers: The Storm

Reviews: I love feedback and constructive criticism. Please don't flame – it's just rude.

Summary: Conversations between Shep and McKay

A/N: This is an AU sequel to "The Storm". I've only seen "The Storm" once, and I don't remember all the details, so any mistakes are mine. Any medical mistakes are also mine. Serena Perry is an OC, she'll show up in person later on. If my details about Doctor Heightmeyer are wrong, you'll just have to live with it. People keep mentioning her in their fics, but I can't figure out where they're getting the info.

This could be McShep preslash. Right now it's entirely dependent upon your own interpretation. I'm not saying one way or the other…yet. 

Chapter Three: Waking Up and Remembering

Rodney slowly floated towards consciousness. Something had woken him up, and at first he couldn't figure out what it was. He frowned but didn't open his eyes, and finally his mind seemed to connect back to his body. His head only ached a little, which was an incredible relief, so that wasn't what had woken him. Something was missing. The warm spot in the middle of his back was cold. The gentle pressure was gone.

He carefully opened his eyes to find the room blessedly dim. Bright lights gave him headaches. Loud noises gave him headaches. In fact, pretty much everything gave him headaches, and he was beginning to wonder if his head would ever stop hurting. Even thinking hurt sometimes, and his mind was so slow and sludgy and confused that he had stopped trying.

His hip was beginning to ache from lying on his right side. Rodney carefully rolled over, jerked almost upright in surprise at the sight of the figure beside the bed, and fell back with a gasp, clutching at the mattress as the room seemed to tilt around him. He stared fixedly at the ceiling, trying to ignore the sensation that he was about to fall off the bed.

A hand gripped his shoulder, and it helped to ground him. The figure leaned over him, and Rodney was surprised to see John Sheppard, looking at him with what appeared to be real concern.

"What – "his voice was hoarse with disuse, and he coughed to clear his throat, which sent a brief stabbing pain through his head. A cup appeared before him, and he reached out hands that were weaker than they should have been to take it. Gentle hands helped him sit up and he sipped slowly at the cool water, and a moment later the cup was taken away before he dropped it. He was eased back down onto the bed, and lay there quietly for a moment before opening his eyes again.

It was John Sheppard, sitting at his bedside, and Rodney could not for the life of him figure out what he was doing there. Unthinking, he asked exactly that.

Sheppard's face closed off momentarily, then the usual cocky grin spread across his face.

"I'm just checking up on you to see that you aren't slacking off. No sick days on Atlantis, McKay. Besides, Kavanaugh is driving me nuts. At least you're almost as smart as you claim to be."

Rodney couldn't follow this at all.

"Sick days? Am I sick? I don't –"

Sheppard sighed. "Never mind. Forget I said it. Go back to sleep, McKay."

Go back to sleep? Hadn't he already been sleeping? If Sheppard was here, then he shouldn't be sleeping, he should up and working. There was so much to do, and he didn't want Sheppard to think he was slacking off…

…slacking off. Hadn't Sheppard just said that to him? He found his eyes had closed while he was thinking, and opened them again. But Sheppard wasn't in the chair beside the bed anymore, he was over by the door, talking to Carson.

"…vitals are normal. Ye might ask if he wants anythin' to eat. I'd like to remove the IV. Do ye want me to tell Dr. Weir that ye're stayin' the day?"

"No, she already knows." Sheppard glanced back at McKay, and turned, smiling. "Well, look who decided to join us again. How are you feeling?"

Rodney had to think about that one. It took a few seconds to take inventory, and when he looked back at Sheppard, he was surprised to find the smile fading from his face.

"Better. I think."

The smile was back in an instant, and Rodney thought idly that Sheppard ought to smile like that more often. It was a more open and honest smile than his usual lopsided grin, and it made him look much more friendly.

"Glad to hear it," Carson said, then, "I'd better get back to young Ford before he breaks somethin' else."

He watched Carson leave, then his words sank in. "Ford's hurt?" he asked anxiously.

"Broke his ankle. Nothing too serious, but he'll probably be out of commission longer than you. Beckett says six weeks. You should be up and around in two, but you'll still have to take it easy for a while. No sign of brain damage, fortunately. Are you hungry?" Sheppard watched his face anxiously.

Rodney found himself blushing a little at the soldier's intense scrutiny. He averted his eyes while he thought about the question. To his surprise, he did feel a little hungry. His stomach felt small and empty, but not painful. The nasty taste in his mouth would be nice to get rid of, though.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would like something to eat. MRE?" he asked hopefully.

Sheppard rewarded him with that wonderful smile again, but replied, "No way. Those things'll make you worse, not better. The Athosians are living here on Atantis again until they get things cleaned up on the mainland, and this one woman – Alinna – makes the most fabulous soup you've ever had. Kind of like chicken with lime."

He made a face, and Sheppard quickly added, "There's no citrus in it. Beckett checked. Don't budge, I'll get some."

Less than five minutes later Rodney was sitting up in bed, sipping carefully from a mug of soup, while Sheppard sat beside the bed, fooling with his PDA. The hot soup tasted wonderful, and seemed to ease the lingering ache that permeated his entire body.

"How did Ford break his ankle?" he asked after a while. Sheppard put down the PDA and gave Rodney his full attention again, which the Canadian found a little disconcerting.

"Helping Kavanaugh." Sheppard scowled. "The moron was trying to reconnect one of the power substations to ground into the water, and got his wires crossed. The whole thing nearly fell into the ocean, along with Kavanaugh. Ford got him up onto solid ground, then slipped and fell himself. We managed to get everything reattached – did you know we found a small portable tractor beam type of thing? Weir won't let that idiot anywhere near the power substations now. Doctor Zelenka and Doctor Perry fixed it."

"Doctor Perry? You mean Serena?"

"Is that her name? I couldn't figure it out. Zelenka pronounces it 'Zerna'."

Rodney couldn't help a grin. "You'd better not call her 'Doctor Perry' to her face. She says a doctorate isn't worth the paper it's printed on. Just look –"

"At Kavanaugh. Yeah, I heard her say that."

The two men shared an easy grin before McKay looked down at his soup self-consciously.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

There was no answer for a moment, and he glanced at Sheppard, who looked away with a troubled expression on his face.

"What do you remember?"

He searched his mind, which made his head start to ache a bit. "I remember…one of the Genii sticking a knife in my arm…K-kolya telling his men to shoot you…hearing – hearing the g-gunfire…" He swallowed with difficulty. The pain in his head was getting worse. "He was going to hurt Elizabeth. I t-told him to - " he broke off and put a shaking hand to his head. The mug was taken from his other hand before he could drop

it. "I don't remember any more. I – I can't-"

"It's okay. It's okay, Rodney. You don't have to remember. Just let it go. Everyone's alright. They all got home safely. You saved the day, Rodney. You saved our lives."

The stabbing pain in his head was drowning out the words. From a distance he felt strong, gentle hands easing him back down on the bed, turning him onto his side, and the by now familiar sensation of a warm hand rubbing slow circles in the middle of his back. It was Sheppard, he realized. Sheppard had been there each of the dimly remembered times his head had felt like his brain was trying to escape from his skull. He would have liked to ponder that realization, but the pain pulled him farther down into darkness. Desperately, he focused on the hand on his back, and the pressure in his skull seemed to back off a little. After a few minutes, it eased off even farther and he was drifting somewhere just short of sleep. His body relaxed, the muscles sore from their previous tension.

"Better?" Sheppard's voice was barely audible.

All he could manage was a small sound of assent.

"Go to sleep then. I'll be here when you wake up."

Rodney found that thought incredibly reassuring, and willingly let consciousness slip away.

* * *

A few days later Dr. Weir was passing by when she glanced out the transparent doors to the deck nearest the infirmary. She was mildly startled to see what looked like a roughly fashioned deck chair made from crates and pillows, occupied by a figure muffled in blankets. Though the sun was shining, there was still a slight chill in the air, even a week after "Hurricane Atlantis", as Ford had dubbed it. When asked what they would call the next one – hoping, of course, that there wouldn't be a next one – the young Lieutenant instantly replied, "Hurricane Beckett, of course."

She moved closer, stopping just before the point where the doors would sense her presence and open. The person in the chair was Rodney McKay, his face still pale and haggard even in sleep. The bruising had faded, but the 3-inch long gash just above and slightly forward of his left ear was still covered by a white bandage. One hand pillowed his head while the other clutched the blankets around him. For once he seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Dr Beckett had reported to her that Rodney would likely take a couple of weeks to fully recover from his injuries. The debilitating headaches had decreased in frequency and intensity, and he no longer suffered lapses of his short-term memory, but he still tired easily and spent most of his time sleeping. Both Sheppard and Carson said he had nightmares, but Rodney refused to talk about them. In fact, he claimed to have no recollection of anything that had happened between the head injury and waking up in the infirmary, but Elizabeth had her doubts about that.

* * *

It seemed like things were getting back to normal. The remaining captured Genii had been sent back to their planet with a warning message from Doctor Weir. The city had survived the storm almost completely intact. The Athosians had moved back to the mainland, and most of the work was focused on getting their little colony running again. Ford had earned himself another three weeks in the cast by getting a little too overconfident on his crutches. McKay's headaches had disappeared almost completely – only showing up when he didn't get enough sleep or spent too long staring at his computer screen.

But every so often - once, maybe twice a day - someone would find McKay just standing somewhere, usually in his lab, not moving, eyes blank, unresponsive. It had scared the wits out of Elizabeth the first time he found him like that: motionless in the middle of the hall, his head tilted slightly as if he were listening for something. His face was utterly blank, his eyes unseeing. He hadn't moved until she touched his hand, and then he looked up, eyes focusing on her face, and several tense moments passed before he whispered her name, as if he wasn't entirely certain of her identity.

A moment later, he was his normal acerbic self, flatly denying that he had been anything other than lost in thought, that there was nothing wrong with him. Sheppard had found McKay twice in his lab in this semi-catatonic state. Carson could find nothing wrong physically, but admitted that medical science did not completely understand the human brain. The possibility still existed that McKay had suffered some lasting brain damage that Carson could not detect. It was also possible, Carson said quietly to Elizabeth, that McKay's fugue states were attributable to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The Atlantis team had a psychiatrist, whom Sheppard insisted on calling "Counselor Troi" to Doctor Heightmeyer's disgust; but although Rodney had willingly spoken to her about the traumatic events concerning Kolya, all he would say about his lapses in behavior was that he had been thinking.

"Thinking about what?" Elizabeth and Heightmeyer both asked him, and he would launch into an involved explanation of some technical issue that made Elizabeth's head spin.

Heightmeyer later spoke privately with Elizabeth.

"I think Dr. McKay is having flashbacks," the tall Minnesotan said. Dr. Weir had noticed with some amusement that her accent diminished noticeably around McKay. "The mind is a funny thing: it can block a traumatic experience out of the conscious memory, but not out of the subconscious. And everything in the subconscious, sooner or later, rises to the surface.

"Doctor McKay says he can't remember anything after telling Kolya to leave you alone - not the head injuries, not shooting Kolya, nothing until he woke up in the infirmary almost four days later. That isn't unusual considering the severity of his concussion. But these fugue states sound to me like an indicator of returning memories, especially since Carson can find no evidence of brain damage."

"What can we do for Rodney?" asked Elizabeth.

Heightmeyer shrugged. "Not much. Keep an eye on him. Be supportive. Listen if he wants to talk."

"And these fugue states?"

"Don't try to wake him up from them. If he is remembering what happened, it's best to let it proceed as naturally as possible. If you see any physical symptoms - if the memories are traumatic enough, he could go into shock - or if his behavior changes radically, get Carson and myself immediately." Suddenly, Heightmeyer smiled. "This is Rodney McKay we're talking about. I think we can generally trust him to go straight to Carson if he feels at all unwell."

TBC


	4. Past Meets Present

Title: Getting To Know You

Author: Ellex

Disclaimer: Stargate:Atlantis does not belong to me. (Sob)

Spoilers: The Storm

Reviews: I love feedback and constructive criticism.

Archive: Anywhere you like.

Summary: Conversations between Shep and McKay. Things get kinda serious here – Rodney had a really, REALLY bad childhood.

Warning: Some violence.

A/N: This is an AU sequel to "The Storm". I've only seen "The Storm" once, and I don't remember all the details, so any mistakes are mine. Any medical mistakes are also mine. Serena Perry is an OC, she'll show up in person later on. If my details about Doctor Heightmeyer are wrong, you'll just have to live with it. People keep mentioning her in their fics, but I can't figure out where they're getting the info.

This could be McShep preslash. Right now it's up to your interpretation. I'm not saying one way or the other, yet.

Chapter Four: Past Meets Present

Sheppard had been first startled, then mildly annoyed to find McKay in his lab, but once again just standing there like someone had flipped his off switch. Not that John hadn't occasionally - okay, often - wished that the irritating scientist HAD an off switch. But not when he needed McKay's expertise to help him figure out what he had made the Puddle Jumper do this time.

"McKay? McKay! Wake up! Rise and shine!"

The Canadian didn't move, didn't react at all. And now Sheppard noticed that his hands were balled into fists, his jaw was clenched, and the vein in his temple was pulsing furiously. Worried, Sheppard grabbed McKay's arm and shook him - remembering too late that Doctor Heightmeyer had said NOTto do that.

A fraction of a second later, he found himself slammed against the wall, McKay's hands around his throat, crushing his windpipe. The scientist's eyes were wild and full of fury.

"I'll kill you, Richard," he hissed at Sheppard. "You're never going to hurt me again."

John tried to pull McKay's hands off his throat, but the man was unexpectedly strong. Then he tried to push him away, but McKay had a slightly longer reach than Sheppard, and the soldier could only grasp ineffectually at his biceps. He had an instant to be surprised by the muscles he could feel beneath the blue shirt before his vision began to fade around the edges.

Then his thumb felt the small bandage high on McKay's left arm. Instinctively he pressed hard on it, his dimming mind presenting him with the memory of Dr. Beckett telling him that the knife wound made by Kolya was small but deep and had required several stitches.

Warm liquid blossomed under his thumb and he heard McKay cry out in pain and surprise. Rodney loosed his grasp on Sheppard's neck and stumbled away, ending up sprawled on his back.

With McKay no longer holding him up, Sheppard's knees gave way and he fell to the floor, gasping and coughing.

McKay sat where he had landed and stared at John in horror.

"I - I'm sorry," he stuttered. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry - I didn't mean -" he moved toward Sheppard, but stopped when the soldier waved him away.

For a few minutes, Sheppard just knelt there, concentrating on breathing, trying not to cough, waiting for his pulse to stop pounding in his ears. He tried to swallow, found it too painful, and finally croaked, "For God's sake, Rodney," before his voice gave out. He looked up to find McKay pale and shaking.

Oh great he thought wearily. All I need is for him to go into shock

"Pull yourself together, McKay," he commanded hoarsely. The scientist gulped, took a deep breath, and visibly did just that.

"Are you...okay?" he asked John hesitantly.

Sheppard tried to nod and winced. Just moving his head hurt. His throat felt like it was on fire, and he was sure that the imprint of McKay's hands was clearly visible on his neck. Talking was even worse, but he knew that if he didn't get McKay to open up now, he never would.

"Tell me," he managed to say.

McKay pressed trembling hands to his face. He was sweating profusely, and Sheppard began to understand how traumatized he really was. He instinctively reached out and awkwardly patted McKay's shoulder, then cursed himself when McKay jerked away from the touch.

"I'm sorry," John rasped, "you don't have to -" but the scientist interrupted him.

"No," Rodney lowered his hands and took a deep, shuddering breath. "No, I want to tell you. I _need _to tell you." After a moment, he began to speak quietly, never raising his eyes from his hands where they gripped his knees.

"I don't speak about my family - about my parents, any siblings. Everyone seems to assume that I was an only child. In fact, I had a younger sister and an older brother. About three years older. His name was Richard."

McKay paused and rubbed his sweating palms on his trousers.

"Our parents hated each other. They only married because my mother was pregnant with Richard. They thought another child would help their relationship. It only got worse, and they blamed me. As far as they were concerned, Richard was a sweet, well-behaved and affectionate angel. My sister was too young to be blamed for anything. I was a destructive, whining brat who blamed his brother for everything and hurt himself to get attention. I spent half my childhood trying to convince a parade of shrinks that it wasn't me - it was Richard. He cut me, and told my parents that I had done it to myself. He broke things. The neighbors' pets kept disappearing. And he was...so charming,so reasonable He could lie so convincingly that everyone believed him.

"The only thing that kept me going was music. I found such perfect order and harmony in it. Piano lessons were a place of refuge for me. Music was the one aspect of my life I could control."

Sheppard listened with growing horror and understanding. Rodney closed his eyes. His voice became very quiet and Sheppard had to strain to hear him.

"My father owned a gun. He kept it hidden at the back of a closet. When I was ten and Richard was thirteen, he found it. To make a long story short, he - he shot me. Our father heard the noise and ran into the room. Richard tried to tell him that I'd done it to myself, but it - it's kind of hard to shoot yourself in the back." Rodney grinned mirthlessly for just a moment. "Then he tried to say it was an accident. But the gun hadn't been loaded. He had to break into a locked box to get the bullets. And I guess - I guess my father finally realized that I'd been telling the truth all along.

"When Richard saw that he wasn't going to get away with it this time, he sh-" Rodney's voice suddenly failed him. He licked dry lips and continued hoarsely, "He shot our father."

Several minutes passed before he could go on. His fists were clenched so tightly, his knuckles were white. He had begun to shiver slightly, as if he was freezing cold, but he was still sweating buckets. "My father was there on the floor, coughing up blood. It seemed to take forever for him to die. The bullet that hit me was lodged closed to my spine and I couldn't move, couldn't feel anything from the waist down.

"My mother found us hours later. I spent the next three months in a wheelchair. My brother ran away. We never saw him again. Mother never really got over it. She left me pretty much to my own devices, and I threw myself into my music. A couple of years later, I...quit music and turned to science. She committed suicide when I was twenty-four – when we found out Richard was dead. He was shot in the back and dumped in some alley in Toronto. The day I learned my brother was dead, I felt...free. Safe. I was glad he was dead. For years I'd wanted to kill him myself...

"And then Kolya...it was the look in his eyes when he stuck that knife in my arm. Richard used to look just like that when he..." McKay swallowed convulsively. "It wasn't being stabbed that made me tell him about the power sub-stations. It was that look...he didn't really care what I said. He was ENJOYING it. And suddenly I felt like I was ten years old again, and Richard was-" he broke off and passed a trembling hand over his face.

"I do remember it. Shooting...shooting Kolya. I thought - somehow I thought he was Richard. I thought he had come back for me. And I couldn't - I couldn't -"

McKay's eyes were dry, but wide and staring, unseeing. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to suppress the shivers that wracked his frame.

"I've been having - it's like a dream, a nightmare, only I'm awake. I'll be okay, and then suddenly I'm back there - I'm on the floor, and I can't move, and Dad's lying there, and he's bleeding so much, and Elizabeth looks so scared, and Richard - Kolya - I can't tell which one it is, or maybe it's both of them, and he's laughing..."

He turned to look at Sheppard, who was appalled by the grief and despair he could see on the man's face.

"I know Richard's dead. I know Kolya is dead. But I can't - I can't quite seem to believe it. I wake up at night, certain they've come back. I see them every time I close my eyes."

Sheppard did the only thing he could think of. He sat beside McKay and began to rub his back, exactly as he had done to ease the concussion-induced headaches. He felt the tense muscles under his hand slowly relax. Suddenly, McKay let out an explosive sigh, almost a groan, and tears began to stream down his face. Sheppard sat patiently beside him, saying nothing.

After a while, McKay dried his eyes and stood up. He offered a hand and a tremulous smile to Sheppard, who took the hand and allowed himself to be helped up.

John tried to speak and found that the only sound he could make was a strangled squeak. McKay looked decidedly sheepish.

"If I'd realized this was the way to shut you up, I'd have done it sooner," he said with shaky good humor, watching carefully for John's reaction.

Sheppard rolled his eyes and snarled silently at McKay in mock ferocity.

"Come on. You're going to see Carson, make sure that golden tongue of yours isn't permanently damaged. We'd be in big trouble without you around to charm the natives."

This elicited a snort of suppressed laughter, which ended with a wince, as Sheppard came to the belated realization that Rodney might indeed have put his voice out commission for a while.

TBC

4


	5. Back to Work

See first chapter for all warnings, disclaimers, etc.

A/N: There's one more chapter, then a sequel in the works, titled "Into the Woods". This WILL be a slash story - sorry, PurpleYin - so if you don't like that, don't read the sequel. The end of this story is safe for anyone who doesn't like slash. Thanks for the info on Dr. Heightmeyer, Laurac. And thanks to everyone for the lovely feedback. My muse says yummy, feed me more.

PS: Chapter six is half written. It might be a day or two before I post it since I just came down with the flu.

* * *

Chapter Five: Back to Work

Sheppard plonked himself down on a chair in Rodney's lab and tossed him a protein bar.

"Beckett says if you forget to eat you'll faint again," he announced, blithely tore open his own protein bar, and proceeded to chow down on it enthusiastically.

Rodney actually managed to catch the bar and was so pleased not to have fumbled it that he ignored Sheppard's provocative use of the word 'faint'.

"Thank you," he replied instead, with no trace of snarkiness, and was rewarded by a startled glance from Sheppard.

"Um…how's your neck?" Rodney asked hesitantly. He carefully avoided looking at the still colorful bruises Sheppard sported.

"Fine. A little sore to touch, that's all. You should hear what's coming out of the rumor mill, though."

McKay flushed. "I've heard. Believe me, I've heard."

"So," John swallowed his mouthful before continuing, "tell me about Doctor Perry. No, wait, not Doctor Perry. Is she a doctor?"

"I know she has one doctorate, although she qualifies for several. She says people like Kavanaugh give higher education a bad name."

"People like Kavanaugh give PEOPLE a bad name."

Rodney chuckled. "That's good. I'll have to remember that."

"So, Serena?" John steered him back to the subject.

"She's a physicist and a machinist. Where do you think I get the parts for my brilliant devices? What I don't already have or can salvage from something else, Serena makes. Who do you think fixes the equipment we brought from Earth when it breaks down?"

Sheppard perked up. "She's the one Ford calls 'Miss Fix-It'?"

"Yes, and you'd better tell him to stop. She won't like it."

"So how do you think she'd do going on missions with us?"

"Is that the point of all these questions? I thought you wanted to ask her on a date." Rodney only had to ponder for a moment. "Good. She'd be very good. She's smart and she's calm under pressure. And she'll always tell you exactly what she thinks. No BS."

"What's the worst thing you could say about her?" John was leaning forward now.

Rodney laughed. "She'll always tell you exactly what she's thinking."

Sheppard smiled. "There are worse things. What's the deal with the humming?"

The Canadian lifted an eyebrow. "I thought you hadn't met her?"

"We met, I just didn't really get a chance to talk to her. Zelenka said she was driving him nuts the other day. At least, I think that's what he said. But Ford told me she hums and sings all the time."

"She's an opera buff." Rodney grinned. "We commandeered the satellite TV on the Antarctica base to watch opening night at the Met on public television."

"You like opera?"

Rodney frowned, and John could swear he felt the temperature in the room dip. "Actually, I prefer instrumental classical music and some early jazz and swing." At Sheppard's blank expression, he sighed. "Never mind."

"Hey, Ford likes R&B. I don't get that either. To each his own." Sheppard paused, then said, oddly hesitant, "You and Serena …. you're, um, close?"

The scientist seemed mildly startled by the question, but answered, "Yeah. I guess you could say that. We're good friends. "

Rodney puttered with the objects on his workbench for a minute, then looked slyly over at Sheppard. "You said you met Serena. Did she offer to shake hands?"

John grimaced and rubbed his right hand at the memory. "Yeah, I swear my fingers were numb for ten minutes. And my hand ached for hours. There's something very wrong about a girl having hands that strong."

Rodney had just popped the last bite of his protein bar into his mouth and had to struggle not to choke on it when he laughed involuntarily. He managed to swallow it, but started coughing.

Sheppard jumped up and pounded on his back, but Rodney managed to gasp, "It's okay! I'm okay!" He took a few sips of water from the mug he kept on the corner of his workbench and concentrated on breathing deeply. The sensation was so familiar that it took him a moment to realize that Sheppard was still standing behind him with his hand on Rodney's back.

"I'm – " he had to stop and clear his throat. "I'm okay, Major. Really."

Sheppard still didn't remove his hand, just transferred it to Rodney's shoulder. "No, you're not. Your muscles are all knotted up. You're way too tense, Rodney. Learn to relax."

Now both his hands were on Rodney's shoulders, massaging deep into the muscles. It was painful but so relaxing, and Rodney could feel tension draining away under the strong fingers. His eyes closed and his head drooped. "You're gonna put me to sleep," he protested weakly, and heard Sheppard quietly reply, "Good. You don't get enough sleep."

He wondered vaguely how Sheppard knew that he was often in his lab late into the night. By the time John stopped massaging his shoulders, Rodney's brain had shut down almost completely and he was barely aware of being gently coaxed to his feet and led to his quarters. He never even opened his eyes as he was encouraged to lie down on his bed. He was sound asleep the moment his head touched the pillow, and never felt it when Sheppard tugged off his shoes, pulled the blanket up over him, and turned off the light on his way out the door.

TBC

A/N: One more chapter…then the sequel. And wouldn't you like to know just how close Rodney and Serena REALLY are?


	6. Insects and Invitations

Warning: Spoiler for "38 Minutes" - sort of

Rating: PG-13

I decided. It is Sheppard/McKay preslash. If you don't like it, don't read further, but I promise it's pretty tame.

Getting To Know You

Chapter Six: Insects and Invitations

It wasn't more than a few days later – less than twenty-four hours before McKay's first off-world mission since the Genii had tried to take over Atlantis – that the bugs came.

The swarm was huge, blackening the sky for three hours as it flew over the city. Naturally the Expedition team had brought an entomologist – two, in fact. General O'Neill had been extremely vociferous when making that recommendation. "When visiting alien planets, you can always count on one thing: bugs. Lots and lots of bugs," he had said, and Doctors Spalding and Kasprcyk liked to repeat this quote to their colleagues on a regular basis.

At first there had been only a few of the bugs, buzzing against the windows and landing on the balconies. They were pronounced harmless in fairly short order – Doctor Spalding said they were migratory insects that seemed to eat the local version of seaweed – but with a body the size of a football and a four foot wingspan, they weren't exactly pleasant to have around.

Unfortunately, they were just large enough to be detected by the door sensors, so a number of them got into the city before McKay figured out how to adjust the sensors. Then the main body of the swarm began to fly over, and Weir ordered all the outer doors locked. Spalding and Kasprcyk happily volunteered to find and catch the harmless intruders, and could be seen roaming the halls with oversize butterfly nets cobbled together from Athosian fishing nets.

It didn't take long for McKay to notice the way Sheppard involuntarily flinched every time a bug hit one of the windows. His face darkened into a scowl, his usual good humor vanished, and he even snapped at Ford.

McKay brought up the city's internal lights as the swarm darkened the sky, then approached Sheppard cautiously.

"There isn't really anything more to do here, Major. Perhaps you'd like to join me in my lab? I have a few Ancient devices I'd like you to try out."

"I'm not your damn guinea pig, McKay," Sheppard growled.

Rodney's mouth tightened as he struggled to suppress his normal snarky reaction. "I just thought you might like a distraction." He turned on his heel and walked stiffly away.

John sat in his quarters and rubbed his forehead. He hadn't meant to be mean to McKay; it was just that those damn bugs made him feel so twitchy. No, he was trying to be honest with himself – he'd been working really hard on that lately, the being honest thing, because how was he ever going to be honest with anyone else if he couldn't do it in his own mind? And the reality was, the bugs scared the crap out of him. The thought of one of them coming anywhere near him was almost unbearable. And sitting here, unable to concentrate on his book or the paperwork that piled up (and how could there still be paperwork this far from Earth – even if it was all on computers and not actual paper?), he had nothing to distract himself from the vague crawling sensation on his skin or the notion that he kept seeing something out of the corner of his eye.

Alright then. He'd go see Rodney and apologize. Take him up on the offer to play around with Ancient technology. Spend quality time with the one person on Atlantis that didn't make him feel like he had to live up to his position as ranking military officer at all times. Even if he had no idea whether or not Rodney would ever feel for him what he had to admit – because he was trying to be honest with himself – he felt for the socially inept scientist.

"McKay?"

Rodney cursed as he dropped the crystal he'd been examining. It shattered when it hit the table, and he stared wearily at the device he'd been working on. It just didn't seem to want to work, and he couldn't figure out why.

He sighed and turned around to find Sheppard standing in the doorway, uncharacteristically looking at the floor. That was surprising – Sheppard never seemed to have trouble looking anyone in the eye, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his intense gaze was sometimes a little uncomfortable. Rodney felt he'd been on the receiving end of that gaze a little too often lately. The Major didn't seem to think he was recovered enough to go through the Stargate yet, and Rodney was getting more than a little irritated. He was perfectly aware of his own uselessness in crisis situations, but he was also the most brilliant mind on Atlantis (Rodney didn't believe in false modesty) and if they found any technology on another world, he would be needed to figure it out.

"I'm, ummm…sorry I snapped."

Rodney's eyebrows shot up. An apology from Sheppard was the last thing he'd ever expected to get.

"Ah – that's okay. You just seemed …well. Those are the biggest damn bugs I've ever seen. Spalding says the swarm should – "

A chitinous skittering sound from the far corner of the room interrupted McKay, and this time John really DID see something move out of the corner of his eye. He instinctively reached for his sidearm, but his suddenly numb fingers couldn't grasp it and it fell to the floor. The bug crept forward into the light and John backed away on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else. His breath came fast and short and his vision narrowed to the huge bug that he couldn't stand to look at, even though he couldn't look anywhere else. The only thought in his mind was that if it touched him, he would die. His heart would just stop, and right now it was pounding so hard it hurt.

Something came between him and the bug, and a large crate crushed it with a loud splat. A moment later, his tunnel vision was filled with McKay's concerned face.

"Sheppard? Major, it's dead. It's harmless."

Finally, John's lungs seemed to open and he drew in a huge, frantic lungful of air. He slid down the wall he had backed into, the felling slowly returning to his fear-numbed extremities. He put his face in his hands, knowing he was trembling like a child and on the verge of tears, but unable to do anything but wait for the panic to recede.

He heard McKay kneeling beside him and managed not to flinch when he felt the scientist's tentative hand on his shoulder.

"John? It was just one of Spalding's water bugs. It can't hurt you…" McKay paused, then resumed, quiet and incredibly gentle, full of an understanding that John found almost painful to hear.

"Oh. It's too much like the Wraith tick. I had a few nightmares about that thing myself. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you."

McKay sat down beside him, back to the wall, and put his arm around John's shoulders, pulling him close. John only resisted for a moment before pressing his face into Rodney's broad shoulder and giving in to the tremors that wracked his thin frame. He wrapped his arms around himself and concentrated on the firm hand rubbing his upper arm reassuringly.

John didn't know how much time passed before the shaking subsided and his eyes stopped threatening to spill tears on Rodney's shirt. At first it was weariness that kept him from moving, but then his body began to respond in a different way to the man next to him, to the surprisingly strong arm around his shoulders.

And suddenly his heart was racing, and the blood was pounding in his ears, and he felt hot and cold all at the same time – and he could smell that odd scent that was Rodney McKay, like chocolate and coffee and ocean air and the slight metallic tang of static electricity.

He breathed in that scent and found himself lifting his head, leaning forward, reaching up to tangle his fingers in the soft, fine hair on the back of Rodney's skull, placing his mouth over those thin, expressive lips. He gently sucked at them, then pressed harder. The soft lips parted slightly, and he began to explore that mouth, finding his teeth, tongue, tasting and sucking and finding that Rodney tasted of chocolate and coffee, too.

And then his brain finally took back control of his body and he scrambled away, feeling his face turn red and hot while the pulsing in his groin disappeared as if he'd been dowsed with ice water.

Rodney stared at him, eyes glassy and darkened to the color of the ocean. His hand crept up to his mouth, lips bruised and puffy and flushed against the sudden pallor of his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" John gasped, then rose abruptly to his feet. Rodney's eyes followed him but he didn't move from his position on the floor, and he had that pole-axed look on his face that always made John's stomach do a slow flip-flop every time he saw it.

Then all his fears and anxieties came rushing back and he said harshly, "I was confused. I didn't know what I was doing. And if you say anything about this, to anybody, I will beat the crap out of you, McKay."

Rodney blinked at him, startled, then stood and said stiffly, "I can't imagine why you'd think I would say anything, Major. As far as I'm concerned, nothing happened here. I haven't seen you since I left the Command Center." His face was cold and stony, his gaze fixed on the floor.

John turned and stalked from the room, and never knew that the moment the door closed behind him, Rodney collapsed into a chair, his hand creeping back up to his swollen mouth, his eyes full of wonder.

Finis

A/N: Doctors Spalding and Kasprcyk exist only within my imagination. Ditto the quote from O'Neill.

The sequel will be entitled "Into the Woods". A seemingly routine off-world mission goes terribly wrong (naturally), bad things happen to McKay (again), and John learns some very interesting things about a certain machinist and the man he can't admit to being in love with.


End file.
